


SuperEgo

by Lousy



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst, Frenemies Dib & Zim (Invader Zim), Mystery, Post-Canon, Pseudoscience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24311863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lousy/pseuds/Lousy
Summary: The Professor has pushed his son to join him in the world of science for eighteen years, so when Dib finally relents with the goal of pursuing a healthy relationship with his father and finding his place in the world he can't help but be confused when the man of science doesn't support his research. It's a good thing he's not used to giving up and it's a good thing he has an alien to help.Rated for language.
Relationships: Dib & Professor Membrane
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	1. Chip Off the Old Block

Two things surprised Dib on the tour of Membrane Labs. The first was that his dad actually took the time to give it himself what with being the scientifically proven smartest man in the world and a close contender for the busiest. The second was that Dib was enjoying it. He’d be lying if he said the centrifuges and crucibles were what was making him smile rather than positive attention from his father, but really what was the difference? For almost two hours Dib had been dogging his father’s steps and lapping up the enthusiasm directed at him, uncharacteristically quiet and uncharacteristically content.

“After everything I’ve shown you, I believe this could be the most exciting.” The Professor rounded a corner into a private cubical, barren except for a desk chair, several white boards, and a desktop computer. “Now I know you haven’t said yes to my proposal yet, but I’ve had this space set aside for a long time now in the event you took an interest in my work. I’ve asked you in the past, but I think you’re in a place now where you’re ready to join the world of science. So… what do you say?”

Dib knew what he would normally say, the answer was already queued up, but he couldn’t help but remember that when his father had knocked on his door that morning he had been seconds away from a) scratching his ass, and b) researching a kolege. It was a good thing the Professor had stopped him, because if he had gone through with that whole ass scratching business Dib would have one more reason to be appalled with himself, but worse than that researching a kolege would have been the same as cutting off his cowlick in terms of disregarding his family name and legacy. Rather than admitting that he, a Membrane, was anywhere near the caliber of people who attend kolege he could have just pissed directly onto the metaphorical legacy and had the same effect. If he really wanted to he could probably think up a third metaphor. So really, it was a good thing the Professor had loomed over Dib, able to see the evidence of the weeks he’d wasted scattered about his room.

“Son! Now that you’ve finished your years of state mandated education it’s time for you to be a part of a _real_ learning experience!”

Dib shut his laptop with a hand that had been dangerously close to the seat of his chair. “But I graduated a few weeks ago, dad.”

“Yes yes, I was there, cap and gown all very good. But! Since you are the boy-child of Professor Membrane, I and the whole world know your future holds something great.”

“Would that future happen to include real science?”

“YES!”

His dad had stopped him at a good time, so Dib held off on his standard reaction.

“Now son, I can tell you aren’t nearly as enthusiastic as you should be, but if you just let me show you the lab I promise it will be worth your while.”

Dib stopped himself once again from snipping at his dad and leaned back in his chair. It crunched. Under his father’s watchful eyes, Dib reached under the wheels of his chair to pull out a half-empty bag of chips Dib couldn’t remember seeing before. He tossed the bag onto his desk and among its brethren. Next to the modest snack village was Dib’s laptop which, if opened, would show the smoking gun of his aimlessness— a half-typed search bar that would have torched the family name and beaten it into the ground with football cleats and a $300 textbook.

“I guess I could check out the lab.”

“Great! Meet me by the car in oh, say fifteen minutes.”

A much needed shower, fifteen minutes and one killer tour later and Dib was looking up into his father’s shining goggles with a smile he couldn’t help. Before he knew what was happening, the words were tumbling out of his mouth. “It honestly sounds great dad, I just don’t understand what I’d be doing. Would I be a lab assistant, or a coffee runner, or…”

“Now son don’t be silly, you know we’ve already perfected the intravenous caffenation system! Besides, the son of Professor Membrane would never be a lab assistant. No no, you’d be working on a project of your choice with all of the tools of the lab at your disposal. I want you to discover your passion like I did so long ago. I want you to become something _great_.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“It’s time you took up the family legacy, son.”

“Wow, uh, I guess… yes? You know you caught me at just the right time, I had been feeling really aimless ever since graduation and—”

At a tap on the shoulder, the Professor turned away. “Dr. Reyez, what excellent timing!”

A genuine smile was hinted at behind the collar of the doctor’s lab coat as she tucked a graying piece of hair behind one ear. “Hello, Professor! Do you have some time right now to look at a new development with the Ultra Screw-On Keyring? We’ve made a breakthrough based off your idea about pierced ears.”

“Not now I’m afraid, I’m showing my son here the labs. He’s just agreed to sign on for some independent research and might be working within your department. Isn’t that exciting?”

The warmth faded from her face at the mention of Dib. He smiled at her but was met with a tight impassiveness.

“Hmm, yes.”

The Professor performed an exaggerated face palm. “Oh my, where are my manners? Son, this is Dr. Reyez, head of our junior researcher program and one of my oldest and most brilliant colleagues. Dr. Reyez, this is my eldest boy-child.”

Dib extended his hand, which Reyez shook with efficiency, retracting it and subtly wiping it against her coat at the earliest available opportunity. “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Reyez. I’m exciting to be working with you soon!”

“Yes.” She stared blatantly at Dib. “Professor, please come by the laser testing facilities as soon as you’re able, we need your sign-off to proceed.”

“Of course.” She was quick to leave and as soon as she rounded the corner the Professor turned to Dib. “I apologize for her curtness son, I promise I don’t make a habit of keeping such rude company.”

“That’s okay I bet she’s just busy with her research.”

“That is no excuse for rude behavior!”

Dib’s childhood distance from his father would beg to differ, but having enough social literacy to know that a turning point in their relationship wasn’t the best time to bring that up, he held his tongue.

“Now then, we need to get you a lab coat and an all access security badge! Since we don’t know what your research will be just yet we can’t afford to let any equipment, code, or research be off limits to you.”

“Wait you’re,” Dib’s mind vomited error messages from trying to comprehend how much information he had just been given access to, “you’re giving me _everything_ in the archives?”

“Yes! It all belongs to me and by extent to you. But be warned,” suddenly, the Professor was looming over his son, all cheer having vaporized, “with this information comes the responsibility to use it for real science. I won’t be monitoring your progress but am trusting you won’t run off with our equipment to chase ghosts or aliens or anything non-scientific.”

Dib resisted his instincts to back away. “But—”

“No buts! I’ve made myself very clear on where I stand about your hobby, and I can’t have you making a mockery of real science around my colleagues. It’s time to become what I know you can be.”

* * *

_Would dad be disappointed if he found me here?_

Dib shook his head. Woah. What? When was the last time a thought like that crossed his mind? It had been years since he had resolved that seeking his father’s approval was a dead end and that he should by no means torture himself by pretending it could be won. But his dad hadn’t offered him a chance at a real relationship with him in the form of ‘a project of his choice with all of the tools of the lab at his disposal’ a long time ago. In light of this new development he resolved to let his old resolve off the hook.

Dib didn’t bother knocking before walking into Zim’s house. For all the things that had changed in hi skool, things that stripped away his compassion for humans as a species, Zim’s base wasn’t one of them and Dib could almost admit he felt comforted by that fact. Almost. Having not been attacked upon entering, Dib cautiously made his way into the kitchen. It appeared as though no one was home and if the smell of mildew were any indicator this had been true for a while. Unperturbed, Dib stepped into the trashcan.

“Hey, Computer?”

WHAT

“Could you take me to wherever Zim is?”

…NO

Dib flailed when the elevator started downward, the sides of it rushing past so quickly Dib had to squeeze his bag to his chest for fear of what would happen if he or it touched a side. His muscles were cramping from holding himself in by the time the elevator opened up to Zim’s machining shop. Dib stepped out quietly and spotted the soft glow of Zim’s PAK deeper in the lab. He was engrossed in staring at a console, arms limp at his sides.

“GIR, stop playing with the elevator. You’re distracting me from… this thing.”

“Zim!”

The alien’s antennae perked up as he spun to face his intruder. “The Dib! I’m sure you think you’ve surprised me by coming so soon after our last encounter, but would a surprised Zim have thiiis?!” Zim gestured behind himself to the mech he had been tinkering with. “I just need a moment to push the code and then I’ll be ready.”

“No way Zim, your plan ends here,” Dib shouted, closing the distance between him and the panel displaying code. Zim tried to fight him off but a well-placed shove to his PAK legs sent Zim sprawling and gave Dib the chance he needed to yank the cord connecting the console and the mech.

“Zim’s incredible code was almost fully downloaded you worm! You’ll pay for your insolence!”

Dib twirled the cord. “Yeah well, humanity is safe from your wrath once again, blah blah, Dib wins.” He pressed delete.

“ _AUGH_!” Zim sprang at Dib, initiating the ritual scuffle without which their meetings would not be complete. These things had gotten almost embarrassingly easy for Dib over the years— even once he had realized Zim’s general harmlessness and consequently stopped taking his ‘alien threat’ seriously. Height was a large factor, but Dib had also… okay, no it was 100% their height difference. Still, Dib let Zim get in a few swipes, punches, and hair pulls to keep the alien interested and ultimately keep him from congealing, purposeless, on the couch. He could relate to the sentiments that tended to land him there. They had been going strong for ten minutes, their grunts and shouts echoing through the lab, before Dib got bored.

“Okay okay you’ve had your fun, now get _off_ ,” out of breath, Dib shoved Zim off the perch he had made on Dib’s chest and sat up. Zim stumbled a few steps but was quick to brush off his uniform and regain his composure.

“Very well Dib-scum, but do not expect such mercy the next time we meet! You may go now.”

One of Dib’s hands crept up to his cowlick. “Okay, yeah, but… actually would it be okay if I hung out a bit longer? I brought snacks.”

Zim did an excellent impression of someone who didn’t want his guest to hang out a bit longer. “… What kind of snacks.”

“Lemme check,” Dib heaved himself up and over to where he had dumped his bag. “I’ve got… Cheezo’s, Bloaty Rinds, Poop corn, and some assorted Halloween candy.”

Zim tapped his chin and hmmmm’d obnoxiously. “Zim accepts your pitiful offering. Let the hanging out commence!”

“Yes, thank you! You can work on your mech or whatever, I’m really just renting your ear.”

“Zim cannot—”

“Poor choice of words, I’ll just be talking you can do whatever.”

“But I—”

“Zim, just forget the ear thing.”

* * *

Dib laid flat out on the floor like an apathetic therapy patient while Zim stood facing away, continuing to work as he had been for the past hour or so. “Even though it was only a few weeks ago I felt so _aimless_ right after graduating, like I wasn’t sure where I belonged in the world. As shitty as skool was it at least made me feel like a part of something and as shitty as _you_ were, fighting you made me feel like I had a purpose to defend the Earth.”

Dib paused for the obligatory rebuttal, but Zim’s continued silence confirmed he hadn’t been listening.

“Anyways, you don’t take up all of my time anymore, I don’t have skool, and I’m not going to kolege. I always imagined I would devote myself to paranormal investigating and show the world the truth, but recently I’ve been… disillusioned. Don’t get me wrong, I still love it, but I feel like I’ve just been scratching the surface by hunting the paranormal rather than finding out what’s really going on. But how do you start with that?

“So I was stuck and adrift and… those words have opposite meanings, but you know what I mean, and then my dad came out of nowhere and BOOM! Second chance at a father son relationship and a job all rolled into one. It means a lot to me that after I spent most of my life deliberately doing the opposite of what he wanted me to he still reaches out and shows me that I belong as a part of the family.” Dib twirled his cowlick around his fingers. “Actually I take that back. Paranormal investigation might have been what my dad told me _not_ to do, but it’s not the opposite of science, it’s just another, less reputable kind.

“Aliens non withstanding, paranormal investigation is just research and study of something that humans aren’t equipped to understand yet. I have this theory that, like light and vibrating air existed before eyes and ears, there’s some other signals out there that humans don’t have an organ to sense. It could explain ghosts, yeah, but also why we get gut-feelings and even the literal definition of life. Since we haven’t been able to make an all-encompassing definition yet it makes sense that there’s some substance all living beings have that’s only detectable by an organ humans haven’t developed. You’d have to be an idiot to not wanna research that.

“Honestly at this point my dad’s resistance to anything paranormal is a willful ignorance, like there’s no way he doesn’t know something is out there either a million miles away or,” Dib stretched his fingers out, “right in front of us, but for whatever reason he refuses to believe it’s real. That really drove us apart. He’s trying to fix that now, but I would have to give up on my passion for the paranormal and I just— I can’t do that no matter how much I want to. I wish I could prove to him tha— ooooOOOOAAAAHHHH!” The sudden change in tone caused Zim to whip around to see Dib had sat up and was scrambling to get his stuff together.

“I’llseeyoulaterbye!”

“Leave the snacks or I’ll kill you!”

Already halfway to the elevator, Dib threw the remaining snacks onto the floor before hopping in and shooting back to the surface.


	2. Mr. Membrane

“… and that’s why you should never trust a moose!” The break room erupted with laughter, Dib smiling at the center of it all. As it died down Dib subtly checked his watch. “Well, it’s always nice to talk with you guys, but I should finish eating and get back to work soon.”

“Yeah, I guess we should head out. Those plankton won’t expose themselves to gamma rays am I right?” The pack of young researchers said their goodbyes and headed back to the labs, marking the end of another of lunch they had invited Dib to join.

Dib unwrapped the second half of his sandwich. He tapped his foot idly against the leg of his chair and picked at the foil in front of him. He should visit Zim soon. It had been a while.

Behind him, the door swung open. “Oh! Professor Membrane, I’ve been meaning to—”

Dib turned around. Upon seeing his face, Dr. Reyez’s flickered with distaste before settling into calm boredom. “My apologies, Mr. Membrane. I mistook you for your father.”

“It’s just Dib. But yeah, our hair is pretty unique, huh?”

“Unique, yes.” She was quick to move past Dib towards the fridge and take out her lunch.

Dib cut in when she tried to pass again. “So, uh, how’s your research with the keyring going? I’ve heard good things.” He smiled warmly and tried to catch her eye.

“I finalized that report for production weeks ago. But,” she met his gaze, “how is your research coming? I haven’t heard much about it.”

Dib made a zipper motion across his lips. “Yep, I’m keeping it private for right now, I wanna surprise my dad with it when I have enough for a preliminary report. It’s taking longer than I expected though, which kind of stinks. So far it’s been pretty theoretical but trying to figure out how to code and configure equipment to take the measurements I’m looking for has been tricky.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you much if you won’t tell me what you’re researching, but I will recommend that you look through the lab’s code banks. Evidently you have full access to them so it shouldn’t be too hard to stand on the shoulders of giants.”

“I’m not sure if it would have what I’m looking for, my research is ah, pretty niche. I don’t throw the word ‘revolutionary’ around too often, but yeah.” He propped an elbow on the table and grinned insufferably.

Reyez was practically oozing disdain after his last comment but managed to only sound miffed. “Hm, well if the rumors on your chosen topic are true I’m certain you’ll find something of interest.”

“I don’t thi—”

“I am _sure_. You’ll find something. Of interest,” she spoke through gritted teeth.

His stomach squirmed. “Oh. Then I guess I’ll check it out.”

She nodded curtly and made her way to a table around which were seated several other silver-haired scientists. Dib waved to them on his way out and they responded politely.

Now out the door, Dib wove his way through the now familiar labyrinth to his cubicle. “She probably just don’t like younger scientists or something. Which is why she’s in charge of… whatever, why should it matter anyways? It’s not like I’m not used to be unliked. Or uh, used to being liked? Hm.” He narrowly ducked a stream of pressurized water from the latest in anti-invasive species technology, the battle newt. “I guess there’s higher stakes now than in hi skool since she’s so close with my dad, but I have no idea why she seems to hate me. Maybe cuz I talk to myself so much.” Dib packed that thought way to discuss with himself later.

After navigating the lab unscathed, Dib found himself back in his cubicle. In all of his childhood, Dib had never expected to feel a glee for science, but here he was practically shitting himself at the idea of doing some calculus. To be fair, his research maybe couldn’t be classified as science in its purest form, but that argument was a little bit bullshit and if the far reaches of science weren’t supported in this establishment then bullshit certainly wasn’t either. Check and mate.

Before sitting, Dib busied himself by shoving loose paper into folders, straightening his decorations, and erasing parts of his whiteboards until he could see at least a third of the desk and his boards were mostly clean. Dib picked up a marker from the desk and turned to the part of the boards dedicated to his latest problem, but rather than jumping back into the nasty looking differential equation he found himself glancing at his desktop.

_I’m certain you’ll find something of interest._

His chair squeaked when he dropped into it. Dib hadn’t gotten much use out of the code database so far as much because he didn’t expect to find anything as was due to his reluctance to try and break his research into keywords. He was trying now however, and it was trial and error before he started seeing anything close to his work. He had scrolled through dozens of pages of results on the 6th, robotic sense and codes attempting to find the least common denominator between all life forms before he hit gold. The entry stuck out from the masses immediately, first for its high security classification and second for its authors. Professor Membrane and Dr. Mia Reyez

The Professor had his fingers in almost every pie in the labs, but he chose his personal projects carefully and based on personal interest despite what he might say about a greater good. Most of these projects ended up commercially known to the public and their successes were a major part of keeping the lights on at the labs. At the very least, Membrane took his projects home to subtly expose his children to ‘REAL SCIENCE’ while getting in a few additional hours of work.

“Then why have I never seen this,” Dib muttered, clicking it open.

The answer was fairly obvious as he reviewed the notes at the beginning of the program; it was _old_. Older than Dib by about a year. The notes detailed the program’s rather archaic approach to analyzing electromagnetic frequencies in the context of living things. It made use of some pieces of equipment Dib doubted were still used by the labs, but he jotted down their names regardless.

“The fuck?” Now that he had moved on to the body of the code, the back of his neck prickled. He looked at his board and then back to the program. The math was eerily similar. He clenched a hand over his gut. 

Dib spent the rest of the work day reverse engineering the code for clues on his own work, finding answers hidden within it to many of the points where he had been getting stuck and to problems he had yet to consider. It was baffling how close this project seemed to be to Dib’s own, but he paid little mind to that in the face of such massive breakthroughs. 

The day had come and gone when Dib jumped at his ear piece paging him. “Professor Membrane will see you now at ‘the car.’” He pushed away from the desk and rubbed his eyes. What a turn of events, usually Dib was the one waiting. Still buzzing faintly with excitement, Dib emailed himself a link to the code and snapped pictures of his white boards before erasing them and throwing papers into his bag. His footsteps echoed through the deserted building on his way out.

Dib found his father in the car, reviewing some paperwork as he waited. “Sorry I’m late, I had a breakthrough and lost track of time,” he said, sliding into the passenger seat.

Membrane looked up from his work. “How exciting! It seems to me you’re finally beginning to understand the allure of science.”

“I think I am, I’ve never been this excited to do calculus and it… feels kinda weird. But I think I’m close to the point where I can present my preliminary findings! You know, my breakthrough actually happened because—” Dib stopped himself just in time. While it would be fun to reflect on how his father’s work had inspired his own, Dib knew it would be more satisfying to see his dad’s reaction when he revealed his work properly.

“Because?” the Professor prompted.

“Because, uh, of Dr. Reyez. She pointed me in the right direction today to use the database.”

“Good good, I’m glad the two of you are getting along. We haven’t always seen eye to eye on the _ethics_ of science,” he said, with an inflection on ‘ethics’ similar to how an anti-vax parent would evoke the name ‘vaccine,’ “but she’s an extraordinary researcher and I’m pleased to call her my friend.” He spared a glance at Dib. “I’ll admit I was worried she might give you a cold shoulder but it’s good to hear she’s warming up.”

“You were worried?”

“Oh, well, you know, the first time the two of you met she was a bit, shall we say _curt_ with you is all I meant. Nothing more.”

Dib pointedly avoided looking at his father. “Right. Yeah.”

They filled the rest of the ride with idle chit chat about various projects occurring at the lab. They were sharing a laugh about a recent mishap in the nautical department when the ease and normality of the conversation hit Dib. This was it, he marveled, this was the connection he had longed for for so long, finally here. It felt warm and comforting and once he told the truth about his work it would become that much better.

Something else that had improved since Dib’s fulfillment of the Membrane family legacy was the Membrane family dynamic. At dinner Dib was used to a few vague questions about his day followed by his own spectatorship of a conversation between Gaz and the Professor, but Dib increasingly felt like he was being folded into the mix. This was of course followed by a crisis of what to talk about, but like every other challenge in his life Dib overcame it. As far as challenges went it was one of the more pleasant ones.

After dinner, Dib dove back into his research. The file he had discovered was incredibly useful but filled with extraneous information the application of which Dib didn’t understand, so much of his night was spent sifting through it for what he needed. Early the next morning when Dib decided he was at a good stopping point, he left his work out in favor of collapsing into bed and gathering it up a few hours later as he rushed down for breakfast.

“Good morning, son! That looks like the face of someone who _loves_ science.”

“Do I really look that bad?” Dib asked, trying to catch a glimpse of himself in Foodio 5000’s chrome paneling as the robot hurried to serve him breakfast. “I was up last night trying to get to a point where I can present. I’m almost there, just need a few more measurements and then to make the presentation.”

“Why that’s excellent! I’ll reserve my private conference room for you in two days and invite some of our veteran scientists to panel and meet the up and coming researcher who’s going to be taking over the labs.”

Dib couldn’t tell if he was choking from surprise or if it had simply been a bad idea to shovel his entire serving of fruit into his mouth at once. “Woah dad, I know you’re happy I’m working with you but isn’t nepotism a federal offense? Or something?”

“Oh no no no, I wouldn’t _give_ you Membrane Labs, I’m merely predicting with 100% accuracy your rise in the world of science. Now that you’ve gone through your pesky ‘paranormal’ phase there’s nothing to stop you from becoming the distinguished man of science I know you’re capable of becoming.”

“Ahem. Right.” To avoid further choking related incidents, Dib took small bites out his breakfast taco.

“Well, I think that’s enough chit chat, we should be on our way to the labs so you can get to work on that report!”

And so Dib got to work on that report. He saw little of his bed and less of his mealtime companions in the following two days, but Dib found it easy to push himself with his goal so close at hand. The morning of the presentation he took a long, thorough shower and carefully groomed his cowlick afterward, swelling with pride and anticipation as he ran a seldom used brush through it. When he finished he couldn’t stop smiling at his toweled reflection and couldn’t resist dancing around the bathroom. For once in his life, everything was going right.

Dib wore a suit under his coat, the edge of which he fidgeted with while waiting outside his father’s conference room. He was there early and had little else to do but pace around and read the pocket-sized screen by the door displaying the room’s reservation details. He smiled seeing his and his father’s names at the top of the list. Professor and Mr. Membrane. It looked like a typo, like someone had mistakenly listed the same person twice.

Dib started when an assistant cleared her throat directly behind him. She stepped towards the door. “Sorry, let me just…”

“Oh yeah, sorry.” Dib flattened himself to the wall to let her by and then followed her in as soon as she unlocked the door. After she straightened up the already immaculate room, the assistant noticed Dib milling about and took pity by helping him set up his presentation. By the time there were only five minutes before the presentation, Dib was standing at the front, twisting a water bottle between his hands and the assistant looked ready to leave.

“Hey, uh, the presentation _is_ at ten, right?”

She stopped in the doorway. “Yeah. Is this your first presentation with the labs?” Dib nodded. “Okay, well don’t worry if the panel isn’t here until The Last Minute, they typically aren’t.” 

Dib set the bottle at his feet and took a deep breath. He stared off towards the back of the room at the largest and most ergonomic chair. “I’m gonna kick this presentation’s ass.”

The assistant giggled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!” He ducked a punch from an invisible adversary and responded with two of his own. “They’re about to have their worlds revolutionized with truth by Dib Membrane!”

“Well I’m sure you’re right,” she tossed over her shoulder as she left, “it’s in your family after all.”

Dib wasn’t left to shadowbox much longer before panel members started filing in, the first among them a group of Dib’s coworkers with whom he was on friendly terms and made a habit of eating lunch with (not to be confused with friends). Being low on the lab’s totem pole, they had needed to request an invitation to the meeting, something Dib pretended to protest, but as they passed by waving and giving thumbs up he was glad they hadn’t pretended to believe him. Senior members of the lab, characterized by the high collars of their labcoats and graying hair, followed soon after to fill the remaining seats save for the chair at the very back. It remained unoccupied until precisely five seconds before the presentation when the Professor made his entrance. The instant he was seated, the lights dimmed.

“Hello, my name is Dib Membrane and today I’ll be presenting my preliminary research into phenomena undetectable without assistance but that underlay our world, what we sense, and that characterize the unsensible.” Dib stole a glance at his dad. He liked to imagine the little shift he had seen during his first sentence was an ‘I am extremely excited and proud to hear my son’s research which I know he has worked so hard on and is very passionate about’ shift. “In this presentation I will unpack the points I just mentioned with commentary as well as the results of the preliminary stages of my research, followed by questions and input from the panel. Before I jump in however, I’d like to set the scene and open your minds to what I’m about to present.” 

Unable to help himself, Dib smiled a little and glanced at the Professor.

“Souls—”

“That’s quite enough.”

Professor Membrane was standing, effortlessly commanding the attention of the room. The lights had turned on as if sensing the premature ending of the meeting, showing the confusion of Dib’s not-quite-friends. Veteran researchers expressed carefully calculated disinterest with the exception of one Dr. Reyez who’s face angled towards the Professor read as smug even across the room and behind her collar.

“The presentation has concluded, you may all return to work.”

The rest of the room stood, filing past a frozen Dib with efficiency. The younger researchers tried to catch his eye, but Dib kept them fixed on his father. It was mere seconds before the two, the Professor remaining at the far end of the table from where Dib was standing, were alone.

At the click of the door, Dib found his voice. “Dad, wh—”

“I was merely saving our coworkers’ time considering that you will not be continuing your research and therefor have no need to present your current findings.”

Dib felt an old rage welling up, but fought to speak evenly. “Are you serious? You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“I’ve heard enough to know it doesn’t belong here.”

This time, Dib couldn’t stop his eyes from narrowing dangerously. “You’re just doing this because it’s paranormal research, aren’t you.”

Membrane took a moment before responding. “It simply doesn’t belong in an institution of science.”

“But you didn’t even give me a chance! My research is science— that’s why I was able to research it!— and your bullshit gatekeeping about what’s real and what isn’t won’t change that. You know, despite all the times you pulled that shit on me I was doing this research for you. For us really, as some kind of insurance for our relationship which you’ve suddenly taken interest in. I wanted to research this, this unsensable energy, this theory of souls—”

“That’s enough.”

“No! Just listen to me for once!” Dib hated how juvenile he sounded, but couldn’t stop himself from charging on. “My research would be more than proving the paranormal for me, it would be merging your world of science with my interests so our relationship wouldn’t be based out of a lie about me liking ‘real science’ that could fall apart and put us back where we started. I’m not ready to lose this.”

Membrane took a measured breath. “You don’t know what you’re saying, you _are_ interesting in real science. You just don’t know it yet and I’m not giving up on you.”

“What are you saying? Why can’t you understand how valid my research is? Especially after you researched the same thing you just can’t say that!”

“You,” for the first time, the Professor faltered, “you’ve seen my research?”

“Yes! I’m finishing your work, you're supposed to be _happy_ for me!” Dib caught himself too late but made a concerted effort to slow his breathing. “Look, I’m sorry for yelling I’m just… frustrated. Can you please just let me finish my research and show you how important it is?”

“You’ll be starting a new project on Monday.”

“ _What_?”

“Clearly you can’t be trusted to select your own project, so you’ll be assigned to work with a team on existing research.”

“Dad, you can’t—”

“I can’t _what_ , Mr. Membrane?”

Dib recoiled, the words dying on his tongue.

“You will not be quitting and you will not be continuing your research. Reassignment is not an option.”

Someone had replaced Dib’s blood with liquid cement. Even if Dib were physically capable of it at the time, he wouldn’t have been able to think of the words to keep his father from walking right over his dreams as he left. Dib slumped into the wall and slid into a crouch. His head pounded as all of his thoughts tried to fight their way to front, merging into a wall of static.

Dib wasn’t sure how long it was before the assistant opened the door and, unable to feel embarrassed but knowing he would get in her way, he picked himself up and shut off the presentation that was still displaying the first slide. Ignoring whatever words the assistant was saying in a soft voice, he floated to his cubicle. His path across the lab drew eyes and whispers, but gone were the days when Dib cared about such things. Luckily, his cubicle was still neat from how he had unpacked at the beginning of the day, but the whiteboards still needed to be erased. He picked up the eraser mechanically to do so. It wasn’t disobedience, it was habit is what he told himself as he took pictures before turning his passion to dust on a piece of felt.

Somehow at some time the day ended and Dib found himself in his room at home. He didn’t dream.


	3. Better Like This

“Dib, could you…?”

Holding a finger up to his lab partner, Dib finished scribbling down his thoughts on a data sheet that was definitely not from this project. Dib ignored his partner’s passive aggressive foot tapping and took the marker from him as he approached the board, erasing half of the algebraic scrawl on it once he was within erasing distance. Someone gasped but they quieted down once Dib made his additions.

A month prior when Dib was still schmooping, half out of genuine emotional damage and half out of pettiness, he wouldn’t have touched the marker, but with the return of his resolve Dib found it was easier to give in to being his research group’s math slave. Ideally his group would leave him alone entirely, but once they got wind of his bizarre proficiency in calculus (and started sending complaints to Dr. Reyez) his fate was sealed.

He signaled he was finished by rearing the expo pen back and then smashing it tip-first into the board, forcing the felt into the plastic casing where it would live out the rest of its days unused by man, facing the slow, agonizing death of drying out without ever serving its purpose. That is unless something changed, unless it adapted and pulled itself out of its plastic prison with a pair of needle nose pliers to rejoin the world and defy odds to do what it was made to. Or something. 

Someone sighed behind him, so Dib tossed the marker in that direction before sitting in front of the only important work in the lab. He didn’t bother to watch their excited buzzing around the board or acknowledge any of the attempts to get his attention.

He didn’t move until lunch, where he continued to work at an isolated table, a theme since the Monday after his presentation when he had snapped at his not-quite-friends. They hadn’t understood. But that was okay, it was better like this.

After lunch and after another half a work day Dib was walking into a place he was pretty sure his dad would be disappointed to find him in. When Dib stepped into the trashcan holding a bag of snacks to his chest he didn’t have to ask Computer to find himself hurtling down to one alien’s machine shop. He was greeted by GIR, who was eager to run off at the price of a dollar store toy. Zim was next to receive his offering and was already approaching Dib with his fingers working in a ‘gimmie’ motion.

“The Dib! Provide your payment!”

Dib tossed him the bag. ”What’s thiiiis?! Generic brand cheese snacks? This is an insult to Zim’s incredible hostly benevolence!”

“Hey, I need money for parts and buying store brand snacks every day is getting expensive.”

Zim didn’t appear impressed.

“But I guess you can decide, do you want cornmeal covered in the exact same flavor dust but in a different package or do you want me out of your shop as soon as possible?”

Zim scowled. “Unacceptable! Zim will not choose.”

“Then that means no more snacks becaaaaause,” he paused to give Zim’s face time to scrunch in anger, “that means no more Dib.” For a split second the anger turned to fear. Dib felt a thrill at the power he wielded.

“Lies! You will do as I command!”

Dib crossed his arms and backed towards the elevator.

” _Rrrrrrr_ —fine! But just know that these do not have the same flavorful flavor as their store brand superiors.”

“Yes they do,” Dib called over his shoulder, already making his way to the designated ‘Dib Corner’ where he stored a modest collection of equipment and used a plastic folding table for a desk. Remembering the progress he had made earlier in the day, Dib calibrated one of the machines while his laptop booted up. It had been an adjustment switching from bleeding edge Membrane Labs machinery to the hybrid measurement equipment he had cobbled together, but it was an adjustment he’d been willing to make in the name of everything that had ever mattered to Dib Membrane.

“So because you will be _not_ leaving,” Zim waited for Dib to confirm, “how much longer until your smelly Dib head is finished stinking up Zim’s lab? Which is an event Zim definitely wants to happen.”

“I don’t know. Honestly, my progress has slowed down a lot ever since I stopped using my dad’s work, so it could take a while.”

Zim munched thoughtfully on an off-brand chip. “Why would you stop using his code if it was helping?”

“Because,” Dib said, “I need to prove my dad wrong about the paranormal being scientific before I can fix our relationship and I’m not gonna use his work to do it. This one’s gonna be aaall Dib.”

“That’s stupid.”

“No it’s not! It’s called integrity.”

“Integrity shmegrity, Zim knows you’ve been failing to progress for far too long—”

“You’ve been looking at my work?!”

“— SILENCE! And so it would be stupid to ignore the wisdom of your taller human.”

“Oh yeah? Well what do you know about accepting help? You still won’t admit that you like having me aro—”

“Do not question Zim! Although it is true that I am very mighty and powerful, I am one part of an _extremely_ mighty and powerful armada that has terrorized the galaxy for longer than your puny human brain meats can imagine. No one Irken could do what the armada does effortlessly, so my race has great respect for the contributions of all. Of course some contributions, such as mine, or the Tallest, or… are better than the rest, but, eh, my logic remains flawless. Apparently this wisdom is beyond you.”

“It’s not beyond me, it’s just different.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah huh. In my case, my dad is both the contributions of the other Irkens _and_ the innocent aliens you murder. But like instead of killing them in cold blood I’m trying to convince them to be my friend or something. Anyways, it would be like taking my enemy’s information to help defeat them, it’s just dumb.”

“Dib, that’s exactly what invaders do.”

“Oh. Well I’m still not—”

“JUST USE THE FUCKING CODE, DIB!”

Dib lowered the arms he had thrown in front of his face on instinct. “Jesus, okay.” As Zim walked away muttering to himself Dib added under his breath, “Asshole.”

Falling into a deep slouch, Dib opened his email and began sifting through it for the message he had sent himself so long ago with the code linked. In the sea of .mlabs addresses he missed the email twice before catching it and clicking the link. _BHERT_. Dib backed out and tried again, finding that the security-level error was no mistake.

“If he thinks that can stop me…” Dib logged into the proxy account he had forged and tried to open the code again. _BHERT. BHERT. BHEEEEEEEEEEERT_. “Really? God, I bet he was all like, ‘oh my son tried to use my research to form a genuine connection with me and pursue his passion, but I’m a dumbass so now no one can use it!’” Dib huffed and clacked his mouse on the table. “That’s… not fair. He just doesn’t understand how important this is yet. And besides, it’s not like I don’t have experience hacking into high security documents. If the US government knows my name, then so too shall my father!”

After a few hours (he thought. It was hard to tell the passing of time down here and he didn’t make a habit of checking the time) of hacking which in no way lived up to the hype of modern renditions, Dib got to his favorite part of the process. He leaned back in his chair, extending his arm dramatically to press the enter key. 

_BINK_. 

“I’m in.” Dib looked around to make sure no one had heard him say that. He was in luck.

Turning back to his computer, Dib was mildly surprised to see he had unencrypted several documents. He had known something was fishy during the process, but this had been too much to hope for. The piece of his dad’s code that he had been using was in there, yes, but so were several other pieces of code and a couple documents also cited to the Professor. He had been considering going home before, but that was now the farthest thought from his mind.

Holding a hand to his stomach after it clenched out of nowhere, Dib clicked a document open. It was a research proposal not unlike Dib’s own for the study of a project that was not unlike Dib’s own. And not unlike Dib’s own proposal, it had been, “Denied?!”

Dib tried to scroll to find the rest of the proposal, but instead found that the document was only the formal declaration of decision. The denial was listed as an ethical decision which had been endorsed by Dr. Reyez herself despite her involvement. He backed out of the document and began clicking through the rest. Evidently the code he stumbled upon had been just one part of a series of papers and programs that contextualized a larger project that went beyond Dib’s aims of observing and proving the 6th sense and into manipulating it.

Dib paused. If his dad’s research went past proving the 6th sense logic followed that at some point, “He proved the 6th sense. He did it. Holy shit.”

He scrolled back in the document and found a casual mention of the discovery of a ‘previously unobserved, but nevertheless integral form of energy that is present in all living beings (henceforth to be referred to as ‘astral energy’).’

“Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—”

“SHUT UP!” echoed from somewhere else in the lab.

Coming back to himself, Dib released the death grip he had taken on his roiling stomach. He tried reading silently but found he couldn’t when he reached a few paragraphs down. “’Astral energy is most easily observed in gestation or in the moments directly following a subject’s expiration.’” Dib frowned. “’Approval is pending on research for manipulation of astral energy. It will be integral for Project 68-73-66, which will proceed regardless of board approval.’ That means he continued Project 68-73-66 on his own. Project…”

Making use of ctrl + f, Dib found this to be the only mention of such a project. “That follows since the proposal was—”

“SHUT. UP!”

Dib twisted around, “I am making some huge breakthroughs here! Can you even hear what I’m saying?”

A pause.

“I can feel that you’re saying things and it annoys me.”

“ _You_ annoy me!”

“Silence! You’re in my lab, so _you’re_ the annoying pig and I’m the benevolent host!”

Dib frowned. “You suck.”

From the depths of the lab a machine whirred and clanked to life. Dib’s blood ran cold. Should he make a break for the elevator with the hope Computer would lift it rather than letting Dib corner himself and giving Zim the chance to test whatever weapon he was tinkering with? Would it _be_ a test? Zim had never explicitly stated there was any truce between the two of them and Dib had only been assuming thus far that the alien liked having him around— it was possible he was about to snap. He needed to choose now, he thought he heard—

Something small and hard hit his forehead. It fell onto his hand where it began to melt. Dib licked it.

“Is this a Dippin’ Dot?”

“Precisely! Through extensive research Zim has determined that these ‘Dippin’ Dots’ are the ideal form of frozen dairy confectioneries, and so for my latest plan I shall blah blah _kneel_ blahty bleh blah SUFFER yak yak blah…”

Dib turned back around in his chair having long ago mastered the art of ignoring idiot aliens. However, Zim had broken the spell keeping Dib awake at what could only be an ungodly hour. He reviewed the documents one more time to scribble down the names of any machinery they mentioned. He would look at it later and figure out which one Professor Membrane had used to observe ‘astral energy,’ at which point his research might be done for him.

Dib pushed his glasses up his head to cradle his face in his hands. There were just too many things to think about. First on the list was why his father had kept this research not only from him but from the world for so long. A strong possibility was that in his tampering with astral energy, a force intrinsically connected to the wild world of the paranormal, the Professor had seen something so horrific it had frightened him off the project. Such an encounter would also explain Membrane’s reluctance to let Dib investigate that world and refusal to let him study it in the lab despite all evident benefits. 

The second thought was that ghosts were definitely real. Everything after that was lost to a fuzz.

With a deep inhale, Dib pulled his hands away and took stock of his workspace. He left it as it was, only bothering to shut down his computer before heading out.


	4. It's More Important Than

The next day, Dib didn’t wait for his research group to mess up their calculations before he intervened. Despite how much he wanted to lay down and nap like his semi-nocturnal bordering on sleep-deprived schedule demanded, the moment the group was ready to start for the day, Dib snatched a marker from the pen tray and scrawled out enough calculus to keep them off his back. Finished, he took a seat in front of the team’s assigned desktop. He wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to be doing there, but something niggled in the back of his brain to check the pocket of his lab coat. There he found a crumpled piece of paper with a list of machinery his father had used in his research that Dib vaguely remembered writing earlier that morning. He must have slept in the coat.

Dib pulled up the lab’s equipment catalogue and punched in the first item on the list. He wasn’t entirely certain what he was looking for, but an EMF reader probably wasn’t it. He ran down the list with little success until he felt a tap on the shoulder.

“Hey man, we need to use the computer.”

Dib crumpled the list. “Okay, well you can wait fifteen minutes. Unless the psychological effects different shapes of participation trophies have suddenly become a national emergency I’m pretty sure my work is more important.”

“Dude c’mon. You know the rules on personal projects. They literally say that lab research supersedes personal ventures.”

“But this is different! If you knew what I know you’d see that this is the most important research in the history of Membrane Labs and you wouldn’t be trying to stop me.”

“Well then it’s too bad I don’t, so…” he made a shooing motion with his hands.

“Okay, okay, then give me a chance to explain! Nineteen years ago Professor Membrane conducted research that was stopped for ethical reasons and has since been buried, but it’s connected to the biggest paranormal-scientific breakthrough in history! The Professor kept researching without the lab’s support though, and whatever he found scared him enough to hide his research and try and keep me from— don’t push me!”

“Thank you for the math and the paranoia, but we have a deadline. Just use a different computer if it’s that important to you.”

Dib let himself be pushed out of the chair.

_Some things never change._

“Guess I’ll be back later.”

Already immersed in whatever was on the computer, his team member shrugged. “Okay, man. Like I said, thanks for the math.”

As annoying as this setback was, Dib didn’t expect to have trouble finding a free computer. Walking to the breakroom alone he could recall seeing dozens, but he quickly realized while looking for one that the lab had so many computers not for aesthetic purposes but because they tended to be popular tools in scientific research. His meandering took him past his old cubicle, but when he noticed himself slowing he shook his head and picked up the pace. Even using a proxy account it would be child’s play to trace the search back to this computer, determine what Dib was doing, and intervene. Maybe it was a good thing his lab partners had no understanding of what constituted important research and had kicked him off the team’s computer.

Dib was jerked out of his daydream when he spotted an open computer. He had to school his motions to look uninterested and blend into the landscape of white coats and cold chrome. He crossed the room and took a seat, resisting the urge to look around like someone who had done something they weren’t supposed to. The computer was already logged in, so Dib wasted no time in resuming his search.

Every time the equipment blurb popped up without a mention of astral energy he felt a desperation rising under his exhaustion. If he couldn’t find answers with this machine he would hit a wall in investigating his dad’s research and he was too tired to imagine a different way to proceed. Trying and failing to keep his hopes low, Dib typed in the final piece of equipment on his list. He squinted at the screen. Either he was more tired than he had thought or this machine didn’t have a blurb. He futzed with his glasses before determining that the listing was no mistake, it must have belonged to the lab at some point to end up in the search but he didn’t know what the total lack of information about it meant. It could only be the machine capable of observing astral energy.

Dib checked his watch. He had more than half of the work day to go so he may as well make use of it. Skipping lunch, he hurried around the labs looking at serial numbers as inconspicuously as possible while retaining a sense of urgency. Closets were overturned, experiments interrupted, and researchers brushed off for interrupting ‘official business of Professor Membrane,’ but still no luck. He had his legs sticking out from underneath a large piece of equipment when someone nudged his foot.

_CLANG_

Dib shimmied out from under the machine, rubbing his head. Dr. Reyez had her arms crossed and was looking down at him.

“Of course it’s you. Who else would have the gall to ditch work _in their place of work_ to crawl under a multimillion dollar piece of equipment. Did your father teach you nothing or are you supposed to be this insolent, Mr. Membrane?”

“It’s Dib. I was checking the serial number, it’s for important research,” he said.

“Do you even know what that thing is?”

“Well I do now.”

She scowled and took a step back as he straightened himself. “Whatever you’re researching under there can’t be what you were assigned. We tolerated you when you didn’t do your work at your station but now that you’re threatening to destroy lab property I might have to look into the logistics of getting you chained to your desk.”

“I’m not an animal.” He quirked an eyebrow but she wasn’t looking at him. “Look, after I check the serials of those two machines I’ll be out of your hair, so if I could just…”

She stepped into his getaway route, eyes narrowed. “If you’re not doing your work then just what _are_ you doing?”

“Uh,” There was no way he could tell Dr. Reyez what he was doing, it would be as good as telling Membrane himself considering her involvement with the research. Or would it? Reyez had been the one to direct him towards the code in the first place and the one to blow the ethics whistle on the research so it was possible she was on his side. She wasn’t acting like it however, so for the time being he would play it safe. Watching Dr. Reyez’s face shift from annoyed to pissed off Dib realized that he had been thinking for longer than was appropriate.

“It’s, uh, serial… theory.”

“Serial theory.”

“… Yes.”

She turned and left without preamble, muttering, “And he said you would be smart.”

Dib allowed himself a mental pat on the back for nailing that interaction even through a haze of drowsiness before getting back to work at crawling under machines with a flashlight and looking like he knew what he was doing. But by the time the end of the day rolled around, Dib had made as much progress in finding the missing machine as he had made in the work he was getting paid to do. That is, none.

Discouraged and exhausted, Dib let his father drive him home in an awkward silence. He generally tried to avoid these car rides given he could practically feel the disappointment exuding from his father. He occupied himself by considering the possibility that the disappointment he was feeling was a minor effect of astral energy. Dib sat through family dinner and collapsed in bed at the earliest opportunity. He didn’t dream.

* * *

He awoke slowly the next morning, sunlight streaming through his blinds. He stretched luxuriously then relaxed into a limp pile with an exhale. It must be the weekend if he was sleeping this late— meaning his father was gone for some ‘weekend fun,’ i.e. work at the labs. Dib tried not to think of how disappointed his father must have been when Dib stopped going in on the weekends. To keep his mind off it, Dib sat up and pulled his laptop into bed.

Perusing the lab’s equipment catalogue he was able to recognize all of the images as something he had either crawled under, manhandled, or orbited repeatedly looking for a serial number to match against. He sighed. Whatever the machine was, it wasn’t in Membrane Labs. After a good night’s sleep Dib found he was no longer surprised by this but found he was a little bit embarrassed about his delirious rampage around the labs the day before. If the machine had lead to results shocking enough to a) hide such an amazing discovery and b) scare his father away from supporting Dib’s interests his entire life, he didn’t see why they would want to keep it in the labs. Additionally, Dib knew his father had finished Project 68-73-66 on his own, which meant that…

“Oh shit.” Dib closed his laptop and flung the covers off of himself. With only a little bit of franticness, Dib kicked away the dirty clothing that had formed a ring around his bed from a series of long ‘fuck it’ kind of nights and forged a path to the laundry basket. It was heaped with clean, unfolded clothes that hadn’t been put away and weren’t about to be either. He dressed in a t-shirt, shorts, and socks and when he found himself chilly, reached automatically for his trench coat. He hesitated as his hand brushed it. Thinking it to be in better taste, Dib picked up his lab coat from the floor instead and shrugged it on as he made his way downstairs. He peeked into the kitchen to confirm that his sister was still asleep at the wee hour of eleven a.m. before padding to a door adjacent to that of the garage. 

As Dib had gained an appreciation for the value of lab equipment over the past several months, he found himself amazed that his father left his personal lab behind an unlocked door. But then again, he thought, breaking in to unlawfully use the lab of the undisputed greatest scientist in the world, how often was it that someone would want to break into and unlawfully use the lab of the undisputed greatest scientist in the world?

The lights turned on as he walked down the stairs and into his father’s basement wonderland. While it by no means held the variety of machinery the labs did it was still an impressive collection. However, since it had been curated and organized for and by one man, no organizational system was immediately apparent. Meaning he would have to check the serial number on every. Single. Machine. Many were duplicates from the lab, but it still left quite a few to be meticulously inspected in searching of the magic number that had so eluded Dib’s search.

He frowned, almost started back up the stairs. But as he turned his glance caught a photo hung on the wall. Dib was just a kid in the picture, grinning and holding his dad’s gloved hand. He wore an over sized ‘30th ANNUAL SCIENCE CONFERENCE’ shirt and a tiny lab coat to match his father’s. He had fond memories of the conference, but not for what he had seen there. His dad had been so excited to bring Dib, so of course he had been ecstatic to join his father— that much was evident on his gap toothed face. His father looked happy to be spending time with his family as well.

Dib smiled softly. This stakes were higher than his usual conspiracies, he couldn’t back down now. He should just check the serial numbers, he'd have to do it eventually and the sooner he figured out and thoroughly vanquished whatever had spooked his dad about the paranormal world, the sooner he could form a healthy relationship with the man. Starting his orbit around the first machine, Dib couldn’t contain his excitement.

“Dang, I can’t wait for some awesome father son bonding when I figure this all out. I can show him my work on local ghosts and maybe we could like… free them or whatever from the physical plane and become a ghost hunting duo! Or we could work together on some astral realm research and bring about a new era of para-science to change the world. And maybe go to a paranormal convention too.” Dib found the serial number. His smile flickered. “It’s gonna be great.”

Dib tried to keep his spirits from flagging as he searched machine after machine, but his hopeful ramblings about the advent of a new relationship between him and his father only served to make him more frustrated when none of the serial numbers he inspected matched the mysterious number from the database. He stood at the foot of the stairs again to look over the lab and ensure he hadn’t missed anything.

“Should I even bother with my research if I can’t figure out what Dad was doing? No matter how amazing my findings are, he’ll make me stop and go back to ‘real science’ if I can’t prove that whatever he saw with astral energy isn’t a threat.” Dib addressed the photo, reaching for it. “I wish I knew what you saw.”

Dib’s fingers grazed the picture, but he jerked them back when the glass flashed green. Backing away from the wall, Dib held his hand to his chest and watched the bricks in the wall grind against each other, rearranging. He occasionally caught a glimpse of a silver latticework behind the precise, choreographed movements. The picture was taken along for the ride but never wobbled or threatened to fall despite the dramatic rearrangement of the bricks behind it. When the final brick aligned itself to point vertically, parallel with all the others, the movement stopped.

The bricks that had moved were aligned in perfect vertical rows and left a sliver of silver between them and the unmoved bricks on each side. The picture had relocated to about midway vertically on the matrix of bricks and was at the right edge, still pulsing green. Dib paused to give his sister a chance to yell about the noise or storm down and stop him from what he was about to do, but when the house remained silent Dib did the only logical thing and approached the wall.

His hand cast a shadow onto the picture it hovered over. He looked so happy in it. As he shifted to touch the picture again, Dib caught a glimpse of his expression, a grimace from the dull throbbing in his gut, in the glass. The portion of the wall controlled by the metal lattice swung inward at his touch with less fanfare than Dib thought a secret passage deserved. He didn’t let himself hesitate before plunging through the doorway and into the room beyond.


	5. Superego

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Suicidal thoughts.
> 
> Also, inconsistent chapter length. Goddamn.

The hair on the back of Dib’s neck stood up as he crossed the threshold, nose scrunching at the stale air. Dib had to feel along the wall for a light switch and when he found it Dib was able to see that he had entered an extension of the lab, much smaller than the main room and crammed haphazardly with machinery. It was smaller than his bedroom but contained three large pieces of equipment, a cylindrical machine that reached the ceiling, another that reached halfway, and an electron-microscope lookalike, as well as tables of smaller equipment.

There was little space between the tables, as if someone (who was he kidding, the Professor) had merely packed the room without intending to use it. The film of dust supported his theory. Dib shuffled farther in, glancing over his shoulder for a hint of the Batman door that apparently existed closing itself until he reached the monstrous microscope.

Almost by instinct, Dib circled the machine, running his hand over it in the event his fingers would chance over an engraved set of numbers. He found them under the seat. He found _them_. Dib’s excitement battled his growing trepidation for emotional territory and achieved a narrow victory. His heart thundered as he inspected the machine for a switch or plug and nearly leapt into his throat when he found the cord. Although the machine maybe wasn’t meant to operate in the room there was an open outlet along the wall compatible with the unwieldy cable. Once plugged in, the machine hummed and an LCD screen lit up to display snippets of code.

Dib couldn’t sit still while waiting for it to warm up. He approached the shorter of the two cylindrical machines and squinted at its glass exterior. It was cold to the touch and hollow but Dib couldn’t discern anything inside or if there was anything to be found at all. A massive dongle protruded from the top and laid against the glass, at least as thick around as Dib’s waist. It didn’t seem to match anything mentioned in his father’s old research, but then again he wouldn’t have the full picture until the scope finished booting. Dib passed the warming machine on his way to look at the other cylinder and saw a quarter full progress bar on the display.

The second cylinder was twice the size of the first in height and diameter and upon inspection was also hollow. It was crammed into a corner but Dib pressed himself against the wall to peek around its curved surface, seeing a point where the exterior plating stopped to create a gap where one could walk into the machine. Within was a computer interface and on top of the machine was a dongle to match the smaller cylinder’s. Moving away from it, a filing cabinet caught Dib’s eye.

He found that only the top drawer, labeled ‘68-73-66,’ contained any folders but stopped himself once he had a handful of them. Something was off. Although Dib knew little else about the man, he was somewhat of an expert about his father’s opinions about science. They were liberal in every meaning of the word, from the kinds of projects he pursued, or rather _wanted_ to pursue, to his belief of open research. His strong convictions that science should be pursued without barriers was why he founded the lab, which, ironically and much to Membrane’s disdain, resulted in its legal board denying many of his proposals. So why was he hiding research.

_Because he discovered something paranormal that was beyond his control. Duh._

Dib lifted the folders from the drawer, suddenly not so sure of why his father would go to such great lengths to hide his work from the world. He cleared some space on a table by shoving an array of dusty tools to one side and dropped the folders onto it. He alternated in lifting his socked feet off the cold floor absentmindedly. Did he want to know? Of course he did, for many reasons from as simple as wanting to solve this mystery to… He looked at the doorway, on the other side of which was the photo that had granted him access to this place. He flipped open the first folder, a hand over his stomach.

It was biology work. Dib thumbed through the papers but when no abstract or convenient explanation jumped out he set the folder aside and picked up one labeled ‘ASTRAL ENERGY COMPATIBLE DESIGNS,’ which he found to be reports and documentation regarding the machine that was booting up and the larger cylindrical one. It appeared Dib had been close with his initial impression of the machine looking like an electron microscope as it was built to analyze images captured by _another_ machine, likely one of the smaller tools, for hot zones of astral energy. The language about the tall cylinder was technical but Dib was able to understand that it manipulated the astral energy of whatever being was inside, hence the large entrance. There was rhetoric about ‘personal astral energy signature’ in this one and Dib equated that to a soul.

Dib flipped through folders faster, groaning whenever he spotted biology. He could read it later if it turned out to be important, but for the time being he didn’t see how it connected to astral energy research. He stopped when he reached the folder labeled ‘TIMELINE’ to glance back at the scope. It was ready. ‘TIMELINE’ was filled with pictures, real, printed pictures taken with a tripod in many cases and which were ordered in a ‘TIMELINE’ of the project. Dib shuffled through the construction of the scope, moving slowly through tests, and slowed further when the pictures were no longer set in Membrane Labs proper, but in the lab just outside. This is where construction on the cylindrical machines began. 

Dib groaned and bent slightly at the middle. More analysis from the scope. Membrane spreading his arms in a ‘look at me’ pose inside the larger cylinder. Membrane working on the computer in the cylinder. Membrane working on the computer in the cylinder. Membrane doubled over. Membrane _screaming_. There was a sticky note on that picture, reading ‘evidence of malfunction.’

“Evidence of malfunction,” he whispered.

Then the test tube. Tranquil, filled with liquid. And something else. His stomach was roiling but Dib squinted and raised the picture to himself.

“No.” He flipped past the picture, to another. The shape in the tube was bigger, more defined, harder to deny. “ _No_.” He almost threw the pictures down or threw up, but who was he to deny the truth even when it might be a hard one to swallow. The next set of pictures were blurry. When they became wet as well Dib realized it was because he was crying.

A sob wrenched itself out of Dib’s mouth as his shaking loosened the pictures from his grip. He followed them to the floor on his knees. Dib tried to scoop the photos together, some joke about gathering himself fluttering at the back of his mind, but found himself unwilling to look at his hands long enough to do so. Although his stomach was done telling him what he hadn’t wanted to know he gripped himself around the middle and leaned forward, not hearing his tears fall over his own moaning and the trillion thoughts swarming his head.

“No no no no no no NO!” He wailed and groaned and grabbed his head between his hands, squeezing it and pulling his hair as his body worked to understand what it had known at some level since he had first found his father’s code. It was obvious in hindsight, his gut had been telling him the entire time, but in hindsight he hadn’t wanted to know, suppressed the truth that he wasn’t a real person from his own psyche. Dib wasn’t real, the thing sobbing on the cold concrete floor wasn’t Dib, that was project 68-73-66, Mr. Membrane Junior, a cheap replica of the real thing. 

He choked on a laugh. Project 68-73-66. He really had been in denial if that little programming joke had slipped by. Just another mistake to characterize the life of a living mistake, the life of the ‘evidence of malfunction,’ a warped replica of the Professor’s own soul trapped in a replica of the Professor’s own body thanks to the miracles of the astral energy manipulator. 

A thought fought its way to the front; Reyez had known. Dib had thought she’d hated him from the moment they'd met but the truth was that she had been disgusted with his very existence from when he was still an idea in the Professor’s head. She saw him as a monster, a disgusting freak of nature that shouldn’t exist. He thought he might agree.

Dib keened loudly, coming back to himself just long enough to realize that he shouldn’t. If Gaz found him right now… Dib stuffed a fist in his mouth and leaned forward for his head to meet the concrete. He nearly choked between another wail and his hand and the tears and the snot and the fact that _he was not himself_. That he was not a part of this family. That his ‘father’ had never wanted a connection with him, had raised him only to raise another version of himself to act as a tool in the one thing he cared about— his research.

So Dib mourned. Shaking and sobbing, Dib mourned his shattered identity, his autonomy, his family, his place in the world, his dreams. Himself. Every time he thought he was done there was more to mourn and more tears to cry.

It took a long time to get used to the weight of a thousand atmospheres and an internal void. Dib felt raw, his knees and mind completely numb by the time he was able to pull himself off the ground. He steadied himself against a table, letting his gaze soften and his eyes stare listlessly at the concrete. Then he left. Closing the sub-lab behind himself, Dib floated up to his room. He almost bolted out the front door, almost shattered the Professor’s novelty-likeness lamp over his own head, and almost made straight for the bathroom where he kept his razor but did none of those things. Feeling like he was clumsily controlling a husk of his body by strings attached to the arms and legs, Dib guided himself to his bed. He collapsed into it. He didn’t sleep for a long time.

* * *

Dib didn’t go to work on Monday. He claimed he was sick and threw in a weak cough for good measure and like magic was left to stare at the ceiling another day. It was another day he didn’t open the veins identical to the Professors to spill the blood he shared, maybe only because he felt too heavy to get up and go through with it.

The fuzz in his head had retreated yesterday when the shadows in his room had been squat and nonthreatening. For the first time, he had been able to grapple with the moral implications of being a clone and killing himself. Would that be considered destruction of lab property, causing him to be sued from beyond the grave for however much money Membrane had sunk into this disappointment of a project? Would his body be dissolved in some back lab to be replaced by Dib 2.0, now without the craziness? Would he get a tombstone? What would it say. 

He sure as hell knew he didn’t want the name ‘Membrane’ anywhere near it. Dib scratched at his stubble and then let his hand bounce back against the mattress. And there was the problem. He didn’t want to live as Mr. Membrane anymore, but he didn’t want to die as this man. He wanted a chance to be a real person and be a part of the real world, or even just not be himself. He knew for certain he was at least done being a part of this family— eighteen years of longing for it had been plenty. Dib groaned and held his face in his hands as he realized that if he didn’t want to die quite yet he needed to eat something to keep that from happening.

In a pile of loose limbs, he rolled off his bed and into a standing position. All of his clothes stayed where they had been, _especially_ the white coat in the corner, as Dib shuffled out of the room and down to the kitchen in his boxers. Dib almost dry heaved when he saw Gaz, and he wasn’t sure if it was from not eating for several days or the sight of someone so stupidly ignorant to… everything.

“Ew, put some clothes on!”

Dib rooted through the fridge for leftovers. Turning Foodio 5000 on right now would just be too much and the container of meat he was holding looked appetizing enough. After prying off the lid, Dib leaned against the counter to eat what turned out to be a few pieces of chicken breast and stare at nothing. 

Gaz squinted at him from the table. “You look like shit.”

He and this chicken weren’t so different. They were a literal part of something greater, but something about them wasn’t quite as good as the original and so they were left to rot in a tiny container in the fridge. The chicken was still derived from that original bird, that hadn’t changed, but it had been cast aside regardless because even though in theory is should taste the exact same it wasn’t as good as the first.

 _Evidence of malfunction_.

“Hey.”

Dib took a bite of his cold chicken, determined to enjoy the fuck out of it and to ignore Gaz.

“Hey! Earth to Dib-shit.”

It really wasn’t that bad. A little lacking in flavor, but Dib couldn’t tell if that was a problem with him or the fo—

“Oof!”

Gaz’s foot was already reared back to kick him again so Dib threw his hands up and backed away.

“Stop kicking me, what’s wrong with you?”

“Pay attention when I’m talking to you!” She crossed her arms. “I have friends coming over in a few and I don’t want you hanging around where they might see you and realize I’m related to such a loser. Can you be weird in your room today?”

“… Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“It’s a long weekend. Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I’m taking a sick day.” He threw the empty tupperware in the sink.

“Of course you are.”

Dib narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

“’What does that mean??’” she mocked. “Can you stay in your room or not.”

Dib understood where she was coming from believing him to be an absolute piece of shit unworthy of a scrap of positivity or attention, but he also understood that she wasn’t much better. Therefor there was no moral quandary when he lied and said, “Fine.” 

Gaz nodded and turned to leave.

“Hold on. When did you say your friends would be here?”

“I dunno.” She glanced at the clock. “A few.”

“I might go out.”

“I thought you were sick?”

“No, I’m taking a sick day.”

“Whatever.” She disappeared around the corner.

Dib picked at some more food in the fridge before changing and getting his bike from the garage. Of all the people he could conceivably see right now, Zim at least didn’t make him want to vomit upon sight, but just because Zim wasn’t culpable to his situation didn’t mean he currently wanted to have a sleepover and make friendship bracelets with him. Their dynamic was difficult to navigate on a good day but the fine line they treaded between companionship and antagonism now seemed impossibly inane. Still, he had the feeling it would be better to get his stuff back sooner rather than later if for no other reason than to keep Zim from prying.

Pulling up to Zim’s house was far more cathartic than Dib would ever admit, but actually getting his stuff out was cathartic only in the sense of requiring a lot of cardio. Without an offering of food, entering necessitated punting, punching, and yelling, and leaving required much of the same. Zim was like a vengeful god, Dib griped as he straddled his bike and checked his clothes for tears, with food and constant attention he was only a minimal threat that offered the occasional treat like continued living or a lab, but as soon as those offerings stopped coming Dib really began to appreciate the whole ‘continued living’ bit of the arrangement. He fingered a hole in his jeans, bitter thoughts quickly replacing the remorse he had felt knowing how unlikely his return would be. 

Laden with an overflowing backpack, Dib wobbled his way back to the Continuation-of-the-Reign-of-Membrane headquarters where he saw three strange cars parked. Even before he opened the door Dib heard shouting and heckling coming from the TV room. The camaraderie was caustic after his most recent encounter, a kick while he was down. Something dark and vengeful wrapped its fingers around Dib’s heart. He moved towards the noise, keeping quiet until he was behind the couch where Gaz and her friends were in various stages of sitting on it or melting off.

“OH MAN, that game looks so cool, what’s it called? Hey Gaz. Gaz. Hey Gaz, which character are you? Gaz. Gaz.”

Leaning back slightly took Dib well out of the range of his sister’s half-hearted swipes. “Shut up, Dib! You’re supposed to be in your room.”

“Yeah, but this is where the action is and I want to meet my faaavorite sister’s friends and watch you guys play.”

“Get. OUT!”

“Aw, but we’re family! You wouldn’t want to kick me out when I just wanna hang out with my sister who loves me so so much, would you?”

One of her friends spared a glance at Dib. “Is that your, uh,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “brother?”

“Unfortunately. And he’s leaving. Right, Dib?”

Dib scowled and reached into his backpack to pull out a few random papers, crossing in front of the couch to block the TV while waving them. “Actually, I wanted to show you guys some stuff about the chupacabra Gaz and I found together as a paranormal hunting duo, see we were at the site of several reported chupa sightings and—”

Dib couldn’t duck in time to keep the controller from nailing him just above the eye. “GET OUT! Take your weird alien shit somewhere else, I’m trying to hang out with my friends!”

“Hey, fuck you!” The words shocked Dib as he spoke them and he could see they had the same effect on Gaz. Her friends looked nervously between themselves. “You think you can avoid the ‘weirdness’ if I’m gone, but if you only knew what I do you’d realize that it’s as much a part of you as it is of me. You just don’t know it, and you know what. I pity you for that.” Deliberately not rubbing at the bruise forming above his eye, Dib left. He consciously worked to not hear whatever muttering was happening on the couch until he was in the sub-lab and well out of earshot.

Blood hot enough cook a lobster, Dib threw a punch at the wall. The force it responded with had Dib hissing and shaking his hand, but ironically he felt better. That is, less angry. In place of the anger the old emptiness was creeping back so he wasn’t sure if that was objectively better but he at least knew that it would be unhealthy to consider it as such. So, no. Punching the wall didn’t make him feel better. It had been worth a shot though.

Still debating whether he should cradle his hurt hand or his brow, Dib closed the sub-lab door behind him and dropped his backpack on the floor with a _tunk_. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had come back down here, but after what he’d said to Gaz it had seemed like the correct thing to do. But he could make this work. He had been considering how to not exist without dying and the path to this bizarre salvation could only happen where he had been damned in the first place.

Giving up on holding any of his throbbing body parts, Dib bent to collect the photos from the floor. The joke about collecting himself came back at that moment and he snorted while stuffing his baby pictures in the folder he had left on the table.

 _Evidence of malfunction_.

He looked about the room for a chair or anything chair-adjacent, but when the room failed to deliver Dib resigned himself to a sore ass and pulled the stack of folders with him to the ground.

Dib wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke up. Folders were scattered around him and his laptop sat open but sleeping by his knee. Dib groaned and sat up, rubbing at his eyes and the points where his glasses had dug into his face. He stretched and cracked his back, laying back out before checking his watch.

12:34 p.m.

Fuck.

He scrambled to his feet and out of the lab entirely into the kitchen. It was silent save for the muffled sounds of his sister’s music upstairs. Dib dropped his arms to his sides. Suddenly he felt foolish for rushing.

The stairs seemed to stretch for an eternity, but even after going through the effort of climbing them Dib nearly walked right back down before approaching Gaz’s door. He let himself in and was met with nothing more than an annoyed grunt. She was propped up against her headboard, absorbed in the computer on her lap and playing metal from her speakers despite having on a pair of headphones.

Dib tapped her on the shoulder, stepping back as soon as he made contact. She adjusted her headphones so one of her ears was visible. “What,” she barked.

“Hey, did Dad give you a message to tell me last night? Or this morning I guess since I uh… I guess I’m missing work again.”

“No.” She paused their enlightening conversation to mash a key.

Why was he disappointed? For that matter, why was he still pretending to care about work? “I’m thinking about killing myself.”

“Yeah right.”

“Cool, great.” Again, Dib knew he shouldn’t be feeling disappointed but if he had that kind of control he wouldn’t be feeling metaphysically suicidal. He was leaving when Gaz shouted.

“Wait!”

He paused. “Yeah?”

“Did you eat the last of the pizza last night?”

“What, I— Gaz, I wasn’t even in the main house last night.”

Dib felt the unmistakable chill of one of his sister’s eyes inspecting him for a tell. “Really? Because we were supposed to have leftovers.”

“It was probably one of your friends. Did you seriously not notice I was gone all last night?”

Dib didn’t need to see her shrug to know he had a right to slam her door like a five year old not getting enough attention. In the hallway, he hesitated with a foot extended towards his room. Within he could see his paranormal themed decorations and the white coat in the corner— each a testament to a person he’d thought he was.

Dib made his way back down the stairs and into the sub-lab from which he had emerged just a few minutes prior.


	6. All It Took

Watching the fetus was soothing. Not its motion— there was little of which to speak of— but knowing that this being was so unencumbered by the burden of living and would never have to know what that felt like. It was a good thing Dib liked watching the progress of his growing soul donor because once he had done the dirty work of figuring out the biological cloning process (all in all not that difficult, Dib was grateful he wasn’t sick enough to want to go through the arduous process of cloning a soul) and configured the energy manipulator to essentially work in reverse there was little else to do. On the plus side his Farmville Farm was running at peak efficiency what with him having no obstacles from checking it whenever. 

One other thing Dib spent his time doing was taking impatient pictures of the tank and then running them through what he had deemed The Soul Scope to watch the important part of his clone’s growth— the astral energy. The first batch of pictures he had taken were confusing, the surface of the tank seemingly teeming with enough energy for several complete souls despite the fetus still being microscopic. Believing it to be a malfunction with the scope, Dib calibrated it by taking random pictures of the lab or the kitchen on the odd occasion when he snuck out to steal food or take a dump. The other surfaces appeared to have the standard, thin layer of energy that came from a coating of microscopic organisms and so Dib was forced to reconcile with the fact that the tube he had been created in was smeared with undeveloped souls of his unborn brothers. The documents had mentioned early failures, but the disgusting reality of the Professor’s misdeeds nearly made Dib plan a first degree murder. He cut off his cowlick instead.

Despite the spiritual residue his brothers had left behind, Dib was able to get a good look at the growing soul when he took his daily progress photo. The one he had taken that morning checked all of the boxes of a soul ready to harvest. He was so close to being a real person he could taste it. Dib sighed and stood from the folding chair he had tucked by the door. He had preparations to attend to.

* * *

“Daughter, have you seen your brother lately?”

Gaz lowered a laden fork from her mouth. “No. He’s probably just stinking up his room though.”

“But I haven’t heard anything from him in weeks let alone seen him at the labs. You know, his partners officially dropped his name from the project yesterday. I’ve tried giving him space but this is getting ridiculous.”

Gaz shrugged. “Now that I think about it he hasn’t bitched—”

“Language.”

“— _complained_ about my music in a while. I’d bet he’s at Zim’s doing freaky stuff, he’s like the only person Dib talks to.” Gaz squinted at her father. “You should really just give up on him already. If he’s been with Zim this whole time there’s no chance he’s coming back to work at the labs.”

The Professor frowned and tapped his fork against a plate. “Yes, well… perhaps I should. It might be time to accept that this has run its course.”

* * *

It was a struggle navigating between other, decrepit pieces of machinery, but Dib got the dongle on the tank to connect with its partner on the newly configured astral energy manipulator. Having done that, he located the manipulator’s plug and inserted it to the wall.

* * *

The lights flickered just as the Professor stood from the kitchen table.

“How odd.”

After dumping his plate in the sink, Membrane let himself into the basement laboratory now with dual purpose. The breaker panel was in working order upon inspection so he returned to the foot of the stairs and glanced at the door. It remained closed and the sounds of Gaz putting away her dishes faded soon enough.

“I suppose I’ll have to try again,” he said, extending a hand toward the picture of him and Dib that hung on the wall.

* * *

_Boom_

Dib jumped as the sound shook the house, detectable even in his subterranean lair. He stayed frozen, having been in the middle of inserting a fresh picture to the scope when it happened. When the sound didn’t repeat itself, Dib finished loading the machine and took a look.

Oh yeah. The soul was ready, its energy signature looking to be the same size as Dib’s— meaning it was ready to be ripped out and stuffed into a new host. Dib frowned and pulled away from the scope. He needed some different vocabulary.

* * *

The Professor’s hand was jostled away from the picture, or rather the wall shifted away from his hand, as a boom echoed upstairs. It wasn’t hard to find the source of the disturbance as the Professor couldn’t remember designing a large, smoking hole into the house’s architecture where one would typically find a front door. Framed by the hole and standing with his legs spread, one hand on his hip and the other propping up what looked to be a bazooka was Zim. Morning sunshine streamed into the house from behind him.

“Fellow humans! I require the Dib-filth’s presence for a, ah, skool project. Relinquish him immediately!”

Gaz moved forward, pushing aside her spluttering father. “What are you talking about, I thought Dib was at your house?”

“Eh?” Zim took an involuntary step backward at Gaz’s approach. “The Dib has not been to my normal human place of residence since… a while ago. Which is exactly why I need him! For his scholarly contributions!”

“Yeah, that excuse stops working once you’ve graduated. Now cut the bullshit and tell me when you last saw Dib.” Gaz cracked her knuckles.

“Shouldn’t you know, Dib-sister?”

“Never call me that again,” she said with venom, “and what did I _just_ say about bullshit.”

Zim clutched the bazooka tighter.

* * *

Dib performed one last check that the connection between the tank and the manipulator was stable. He looked anywhere but at the fetus as he stepped into the matching machine.

* * *

Gaz had Zim in a headlock, bazooka at his feet, Professor yelling inches from his face.

“Where’s my son?”

Zim clawed at Gaz’s clutch, gasping out, “I told you, I don’t know! I thought he would be here so I knocked on his window and he,” Zim wheezed, “he didn’t answer! The Dib always answers!”

“And what about his research?”

“I already told you, you stupid human, I don’t know!” he bawled.

Gaz shook him, sending his limbs flailing like a doll’s. “You have to know something that might lead us to him, tell us or I’ll kill you!”

“Hah! As if you could kill the almighty Z—”

Zim’s face met the concrete with a crunch, Gaz’s forearm pressing into his neck. After letting him flail and shriek for an appropriate amount of time she let up slightly so he could turn his head to the side.

“The last time I saw the Dib he was researching some stupid ‘6th sense’ in Zim’s lab using stolen research from his father and destroying much of Zim’s equipment and smelling bad and being loud,” he spat. “Now release me!”

Gaz looked up at her father for the word, but his stare was far from the terrorist bleeding on his driveway.

“Oh dear.”

* * *

Dib habitually reached up to his cowlick as he typed commands into the manipulator. When his hand didn’t find it he picked at his belt loop instead, eyes flicking between the reference page he had taped to the manipulator’s interior and the console.

* * *

Not looking to see if Gaz or Zim were following, the Professor ran back into the house. If pressed, he wouldn’t be able to cite a scientific cause or path of reasoning fueling his urgency, but for once in his life the Professor didn’t question it and focused getting into the lab as quickly as possible.

* * *

His finger was raised over the button. Needlessly dramatic, but what were dramatics for if not situations like these? Smiling faintly, Dib lowered his finger.

* * *

The Professor stumbled on the last step, but recovered quickly to turn to the framed picture at the foot of the stairs and shove his hand at it fast enough to shatter the glass. The scanner was unaffected and flashed green at the biometric data stored in his glove. Gaz appeared at the top of the stairs, one arm still wrapped around Zim’s neck.

“Dad? What’s happening? Is… is Dib okay?”

“Not now, sweetie. You two should head to school and let me sort this out.” The Professor didn’t take his eyes of the shifting brickwork, cursing their complex dance and begging a past version of himself to make the damn door open _faster_. Just beyond he heard a familiar scream, _his_ scream, and abandoned all pretenses to pound on the bricks.

Slackening her grip without realizing it, Gaz hovered between the kitchen and the stairs and watched her father yell and slam his fists against the wall until they yielded to his desperation.

* * *

The pounding stopped with the unmistakable sound of a hidden door losing its secrecy. Dib shrank into himself on the floor of the manipulator, fighting down a sniffle and valiantly losing the battle to keep his face dry. Footsteps fell loudly and quickly but after a moment stopped. Dib had angled the manipulator to where it was still mostly facing the corner, but even though he couldn’t see Dib knew the sound of the Professor saying “I’m too late” when he heard it. Slow steps. A stop. More steps, this time getting closer.

Dib tried to make himself smaller, but at the last second straightened and turned his head to meet on even terms as Membrane looked around the edge of the machine.

“Son…”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” Dib swiped aggressively across his cheek, but when he only managed to mix fresh blood into the tears streaking his face he gave up on the facade and scooted farther back under the wrecked remains of the control panel.

“I… I suppose by now you know the truth.”

Dib snorted.

“I should have told you, but you have to understand that I couldn’t risk you rebelling against your calling to do real science if you didn’t take the news well. I’m sorry you had to find out like this, I truly am. If only I could have managed to destroy my work this would have all been avoided.”

“ _That’s_ what your regretful about? Not, oh I don’t know, avoiding telling me that I’m a shitty copy of your own body and soul for eighteen years? Or even for making me in the first place?! I— I’m a _literal_ mistake and you made me find that out on my own, do you know what I almost _did_ , I— augh! Just leave me alone!”

Membrane shifted awkwardly to sit on the floor. As he did, he took in the destroyed control panel Dib was cowering under and his bleeding hands. The ragged tuft of hair that had, the last time he’d seen it, sported a proud reminder of heritage. He chose his next words carefully. “I can tell you’re in a lot of pain right now and I can’t blame you for that.”

“Didn’t you hear me? LEAVE. I can’t look at you right now.”

“So— er, Dib. I need you to listen.”

Dib’s head jerked up like a dog whose name had been called.

“Yes, it’s true that you’re my biological and spiritual clone. And yes, something… went wrong in duplicating my personal astral signature for you that I didn’t immediately detect.” He paused to collect this thoughts for a conversation he had hoped to never have. A conversation he had imagined would be straightforward in nature but that was being derailed by some messy, messy feelings.

“So? I already knew that. I’m just your clone so you don’t have to pretend to care about my feelings. Because that’s all you see me as, right?”

“I,” Yes, the answer was yes. But then why was he hesitating? Why had he run down here so quickly, felt dread as real as a knife in his chest when he heard that scream and again when he saw that tube? “No,” he said sounding unsure of it himself. “No I don’t. Initially that’s all I intended you to be, but as you grew up in this house I… couldn’t help but get attached. I’ve tried and tried to deny it but it’s time for me to admit that I’ve committed the worst scientific crime by allowing myself to become personally attached to my subject. To my son.”

Dib forgot he had stopped trying to wipe away his tears. “Right yeah, fucking sure! Of course you got attached because I’m so lovable! I may only have a fucked copy of your soul but your selfishness and inability to make human connections came out perfectly intact! It’s like looking in a mirror!”

Membrane cringed. “Son, you are not me.”

“Hah! As if I don’t know I’m not the beloved man of science. I’m barely a real person, I— I’m just a mistake and I… don’t understand how anyone could love that.”

“Oh, Dib.” Membrane reached out a hand to hold his son’s shoulder.

At the contact, Dib’s heart fell apart all over again. He tucked his face into the crook of his arm. “Dad. Who am I?”

Even though the walls of the machine with which he had nearly made the biggest mistake of his life blocked the view of tank, Dib could tell that’s where his father was pointing. A tank smeared with the souls of his unborn brothers but holding an untouched fetus. “Whoever you choose to be, I know you aren’t me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh I guess Dib has a kid now. Convenient for me the fic ends here.
> 
> If you read this whole thing, thank you so much?


End file.
